


Stepfathers and stepdaughters

by Jarsenpadackles97



Category: Crimson Peak (2015) RPF, High-Rise (2015), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Night Manager (TV) RPF
Genre: Actor Tom Hiddleston, Angst, Dad Tom Hiddleston, Daddy Kink, Electra Complex, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Narcissism, Step-parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 21:33:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8506252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarsenpadackles97/pseuds/Jarsenpadackles97
Summary: How will Riley react when she will find out that her self-absorbed mother is dating Tom Hiddleston himself?A small intro to a story whose length depends on the public's reviews.





	

So my mother is dating Tom Hiddleston.  
I don’t get along with my mother, plus Tom Hiddleston is basically my wet dream, equals disaster.  
I mean, what do you do in this situation? It is so fucked up I…it is beyond fucked up. It’s a serious problem when the man of your dreams, is literally shagging your mother. I can’t even explain how it feels – it is so confusing! I don’t know how to act, I’m sort of mad at my mom, then I’m really awkward around him, and I have to hold it all inside – the rage and the jealousy, and even the feeling of being betrayed by your own mother.  
In a sense I hate on him too. He stole my peace. He stole my mom. British asshole, I hate the day when I first googled him.  
How the hell did he even meet my mom?! Why me? Why her? Why us? Fuuuuck!

* * *

  
“Riley!” I hear my mom’s voice from downstairs.  
“Yeah?”  
“Come here!” Oh God what.  
“Yes?” I say, as I face my mother. She’s in the hallway, looking in the wall mirror all dressed up and apparently ready to go out.  
“What do you think?”  
“You look good.” I answer disinterested.  
“Really?”  
“Yeah, I like how you did your hair.” She looks at me for a few seconds, as if hesitating, before she says:  
“I’m going on a date.” Of course she is.  
“You didn’t have to tell me.”  
“I know, but I wanted you to know.”  
“What for?”  
“What do you mean? So that you’re not wondering where I am.”  
“Um…” Well, that’s just fucking adorable! She wants me to know?! The last thing she cares about is me worrying about her not being around. Why is she even trying? I already have a theory: she’s whether going to be gone for a while, which I’m already used to, or it’s something serious, and the thought alone scares me.  
“I’m surprised you actually took time to warn me.” I say eventually, making sure I sound angry enough.  
“Riley…”  
“Just leave.” With that I end our conversation and go back upstairs.  
I’m sad that I can’t seem to find a way to like my own mother. It scares me that sometimes I even enjoy loathing her, because she gives me no other choice. She’s an absolute narcissist and I don’t understand how a person like her could even bear a child, being as selfish as she is.  
Ever since I was little, I remember her being cold to me. She never spent time with me, she never played with me. She didn’t talk to me like a mother should talk with her daughter. I had no support from her, and I never saw her as a reliable figure. I’m surprised she wanted me in the first place, given that she was always so worried about her body image.  
Yes, I hate her, and I don’t feel bad about it. Sometimes however I do think how everything could be if she was different. It could’ve all been different. My dad wouldn’t have left, I would’ve grown up in a different way, maybe we could actually be close and share all those beautiful moments.  
Ah screw it. If you don’t have a taste of it, you don’t know what you’re missing; so I didn’t, and I don’t fucking care. Let her do what she wants, because it’s not like she was ever there for me. I don’t miss her, I don’t feel her absence. She’s a free bird, so let her do her thing, while I worry about myself and my own good. I look forward to moving away because when I realize for how long I’ve been dealing with this shit, I sincerely think I must be a dumb bitch, who doesn’t have any respect for herself.  
And again, I hear how the front door opens and closes, and then a car leaving the driveway, and I think to myself how careless she really is. If she wanted so badly to let me know, or if she genuinely was concerned about leaving again without saying anything, she could’ve come up to my room, and talk that talk. But she was like ‘She wanted me to leave. Awesome! I didn’t really want to talk to her anyway.’ And she just vanished like she always does.

* * *

  
I’m just about done with my make up when I hear a car peeping in the driveway, and I know who that is. With a smile I walk to the window and stick my head out.  
“Get in loser! We’re going to the club!” Dakota, my best friend, screams like she’s fucking crazy, and I start laughing:  
“Shut up, you’ll get me in trouble!”  
“Well, you better hurry up then!” She says with a big grin, beeping again. What a dork. I quickly run to the car, because I know she can and she will get me in trouble if she so wishes.  
“Hey.” I reach for a kiss on the cheek.  
“Hey. How are you?” She inquires, and I hear concern in her voice, which bugs me:  
“I’m alright and I’m getting drunk tonight.” I feel her looking at me as we’re already pulling out of the driveway and headed to the club.  
“Dakota, it is not the first time she’s gone. Stop acting like I’m about to break.”  
“I don’t know what you’re about to do, but anyway you must feel crappy.”  
“I’m tired of wasting my time feeling bad about myself. She doesn’t deserve and she doesn’t have the right to have that sort of hold over me. I won’t let her and her stupid affairs or whatever the hell they are, affect me in any way.”  
“I’d tell you that she is your mother and that you shouldn’t say that, but…I can’t fucking stand her, so I’m totally with you on this one.”  
“Good. Let’s not talk about this.”  
“Jake was asking about you.”  
“He was?”  
“Yasss!”

* * *

  
The day I got fucked was the day when my mother came back, acting like a brainless grown-ass woman, who is in her mind still in her twenties. She wishes.  
I don’t even want to reproduce our dialogue, that was short, but very efficient thankfully. I was informed that her boyfriend will arrive in a few days and that I was to meet him because things were pretty serious between them. Fuck. What I feared would happen – happened.  
Now when my mother had a boyfriend, it was even worse than when she was gone. There’s not much to say, except it was obnoxious to see how she treated her men; first I suffered from jealousy and agony, to see and hear them (only sometimes) being so absorbed with each other, to see her offer somebody so much love. A man that was basically a stranger to me, and sometimes to her too, got more of her attention than I ever did in my lifetime, as her daughter. Ouch.  
Then it was painful to watch how she treated them once she was fed up. She didn’t even try to hide her apathy. And then it all ended with drama.  
That is also something that happens on a regular basis. It’s almost cyclical.  
Namely because of that, news about her new boyfriend sounded to me like nails scratching on a blackboard.

* * *

  
Knock. Knock. Knock. And without waiting for an answer, my mother walks into my room, like that’s the most casual thing she does.  
“Riley, I gotta talk to you about Tom.”  
“Oh, so his name is Tom?”  
“Enough! I might not be the best mother, but I’m still your mother.”  
“Oh please, you’re not even allowed to say that!”  
“Riley!” She yells and I don’t say another word, just stare at her with disdain. With a calm voice, she continues:  
“I want this to work. He’s a very nice man and we’re happy together. I’d like you to get to know him better too.” I…I have so much to say to that, I feel like I’m going to explode; I mean, where do I even start? The fact that she wants it to work, or that they’re happy together – for heaven’s sake, she was gone for like a week or so; there’s nothing that’s she’s said to me today, that I didn’t hear before. And she wants me to get to know him better?! Well that’s new. It must be something different about this Tom.  
“I don’t see why I need to do that, I’m more eager than ever to stay out of your romances.”  
“That is my only request. Just be reasonable.” Like you know something about reason.  
“I’m not doing you a favor. If it’s so important for you, then let him see who you truly are. Don’t try to improve our inexistent relationship just for the sake of showing him what good of a mother you are.” Damn, I’m proud of myself; I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to her like that. I bet she didn’t see that coming. She slowly stands up from my bed, and walks out of the room. I hope that she at least got the message, and didn’t only get offended.  
Our talks are always so short, I must admit I’m disappointed. Like I said before, she’s not even willing to try, or try harder for that matter. She’s so lazy, so indifferent and weak, that she isn’t even capable to make a point and stick to it. I guess she can’t confront me, or the way I wish it would be – she wants to, but she has the decency to not do it, because she supposedly is feeling guilty. I wish.

* * *

  
Time to meet my daddy!  
Oh God I can barely suppress a laugh. I stand at the entrance near the stairs, waiting to meet and be introduced to Tom. Next thing I know I’m about to faint. I can’t believe what I see. Am I dreaming?  
From a black Jaguar F-Type Coupe, Tom fucking Hiddleston steps out, with his perfectly polished shoes. I start blinking – maybe I’m hallucinating? But no! He gets closer and closer, and with my hands I search for something to hold on to, because as the realization washes over me, I feel lightheaded.  
What the fuck?!  
As he is getting closer, a smile appears on his face and he looks straight at me. Straight at me! I blush and my left eye starts twitching.  
“You must be Riley!” Is the first thing he says, and he stretches out his hand for me to shake.  
Oh God, where did he and mom meet? How? Tom, could you honestly not do better than this? And as for my mom…we will have a serious discussion. Later. I’m dying to know how she’s going to explain it to me. Was it really so hard to mention, among other things, that she’s bringing home a now world famous actor?  
What kind of a parent she is? Stealing my childhood, stealing my confidence, and now stealing my idol?! Tom suddenly lost his charm for me. How could he…fall out of his grace? He is not supposed to get involved with us – ordinary people. He’s supposed to fucking remain there, behind the screen and behind the cameras, where he belongs and where it is safe to be for both him and his fans. What the hell is he doing in our house?!  
“Pleased to meet you.” He says, and we shake hands, although I’m officially passed out.  
“Likewise.” I manage to say. Although he is smiling, I can tell he’s uncomfortable too. Of course he is – he’s just seen his stepdaughter!  
Without another word, he walks past me and proceeds to greeting my mom, which of course takes longer. I don’t even want to turn my head their way, because I’m afraid of what I might see.  
I’m mortified.  
“Your mother speaks very well about you.” The embodiment of everything I want in a man speaks, with a soothing voice that startles me. I still can’t believe it’s happening.  
“Sure she does. She would never talk bad about her daughter, even if that meant lying.” I answer and Tom smiles at me! Ho-ho-ho whaaaat?! Tom Hiddleston smiles at me, and I already say it as if it’s the most circumstantial thing!  
“I suppose you’re right.” Oh…oh my, he’s standing so close! Now I feel dirty and disgusting thinking and reacting to him that way, because he’s…well, he’s my mom’s! Fuck, when it hits me once again, I’m on the verge of crying. Why is this happening to me? If that’s the case, then I would’ve rather not met him at all. If I don’t get him, my mother shouldn’t get him either, because it’s just wrong!  
God what am I thinking? After all, she is my mother; I can’t fight with my mother over a man, even if that man is Tom Hiddleston. It’s just…wrong and shouldn’t even be on my mind.  
“I’m just going to put it out there: I’m your fan and it’s really…I’m…wow, I’m absolutely blown away to get to see you, face to face.” I tell him with a shaky voice and a burning red face. I don’t know about my face being red, but I do feel it burning, my whole body is shivering as if from cold, and it’s confusing because…how can my face be burning, and then my body trembling from cold?! Or maybe it’s just excitement? And then he smells so good, and he smiles down at me like we’re the only ones present in the room…  
FUCK!@$%#T!!!  
“Eheheh, you probably didn’t expect to meet me like this.” I smile too, looking down:  
“Nope.”  
“Am I interrupting something?” Then along came she – the necessary distraction, I mean my mom.  
I shouldn’t be forgetting that it’s the other way around actually.  
Tom embraced her and kissed her on the cheek, while she was “candidly” looking at me (oh yes she can play the innocent), with that self-sufficient smile that screamed ‘I’m better than you’. I sincerely felt so, because in a way not only now, but always my mother was in a way my competitor. Yes, she is very pretty, but…I’m pretty too. At least I hope it’s not subjective.  
I’m not constantly told so, and it’s also not something that strikes the eye, but I must’ve gotten it from her, because what I am told is that I look a lot like my mother.  
I turn around to leave and roll my eyes, but make sure they don’t see it. This is going to be the death of me. What a torture.  
It’s a sign that I need to get the hell out of this house as soon as possible, because if this is really serious, then it might, just might ruin my life on a whole different level.  
I’ve had enough.  
“Riley, wait. Don’t go yet. We were thinking to go out for dinner. Care to join us?” I hear my mom’s voice when I’m halfway up the stairs. No, mom, I don’t want to sit and look how you play with your new “toy” that happens to be my crush.  
“Maybe another time.” I reply, making an effort to sound guilty, or nice, or whatever.  
“I insist.” Says Tom then, and mom shoots him a look similar to one of a harpy; she furrows her eyebrows and only a slight smile is barely visible, as if through clenched teeth she’s posing the question ‘What are you doing?!’ Wait a minute, she doesn’t want me to come? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Not enough that she was worse than a stepmother to me all these years, now she wants me completely out of her life?  
Well guess what my dear mother; once I would’ve gladly steered clear, but not now, especially when you act like Mother Teresa, but in reality want to have him all to yourself. Two-faced menace of a woman!  
Un-fucking-believable! This is my mother I’m talking about!  
You certainly will not get what you want, and I will personally make sure of it!  
“Ok. Give me a few minutes to get ready.” Game on.

* * *

  
“Say that again!!!” Dakota’s voice deafens me for a couple of seconds, as we’re talking on the phone. She just can’t control her emotions, and most of the time it manifests through her highly raised voice.  
“He is dating my mom.”  
“May I know how…they met?”  
“I have no idea. This world really is small seems like.” I hear Dakota giggling:  
“Is he living with you now? What is it like? Have you seen him walking around the house in his underwear yet?”  
“Wow! Wow! Take it down a notch please. He comes to our house and sometimes he spends the night here...”  
“Ewwww!!!!”  
“DAKOTA!”  
“What?! I’m sorry, just…unwelcome thoughts.”  
“I will smack you!”  
“Ok, ok, what is he like?”  
“I don’t want to sound dramatic, but I don’t want to talk about it.”  
“Why?”  
“Because, it’s unbearable.”  
“Oh my God, Riley Marianne Kerner, are you suffering from the Electra Complex?” She’s going too far without even realizing it.  
“Like I said, I don’t want to talk about it.”

* * *

  
Tonight we’re having people over at our house for dinner; in other words mom wants to show Tom to all of her friends, like he’s some sort of rare animal.  
The living room is already full with people, some sitting on the couch, some standing. Mom is actively chatting within a small group of people near the chimney, with a glass of white wine in her hand. She can be very socialite if she wants.  
Surprisingly Tom is nowhere to be seen, although he is basically the reason for the gathering. As I make my way through the living room, I stop to talk to a few of mom’s friends that I know, and then go to the kitchen.  
That’s where I find Tom, talking to another man.  
“Riley, good you’re here!” Tom checks the oven, after what he walks around the kitchen island and hugs me. He always does that, and I relish every minute of it. He also kisses me on the cheek this time.  
“Are you cooking?” I ask him surprised, checking the oven too to see what he has in there.  
“Yes, it’s one of my mother’s recipes. Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners? Riley, please meet my friend, Jack; Jack, this is Diana’s wonderful daughter – Riley.” I blush at the way he introduces me to his friend. Jack and I shake hands:  
“Tom was just telling me about you.” What exactly was Tom telling him? I don’t know why it sounds very unusual.  
“Really?” I ask Jack with a smile, curious about what it could be. Naturally I expect one of them to clarify, meanwhile busying myself with cutting the cheese into slices, which Tom was apparently doing before I walked in.  
“I was telling Jack about your writing skills.” I raise an eyebrow:  
“My writing skills?” Tom nods:  
“Diana told me you attempted at writing in the past, and then she showed me the article you wrote on The Globe Theater and some of the most well-known Shakespearean plays…”  
“Oh, that was actually a college assignment. I don’t know where she got it from.” I interrupt him, shrugging my shoulders. What I hear beyond surprises me: my mom told him about what I liked to do? Why? She never took any interest.  
“I read it, and I thought it was really good. You probably did a lot of research.” And who could appreciate it better than Tom Hiddleston himself? I smile at the thought. Tumblr always likes to point out that he is that kind of nerd, who turned into a sexy man over the years, and that he is an absolute Shakespeare scholar.  
“Thanks.” I still don’t know where my mom found that paper, but oh well, at least it made a good impression on Tom.  
“Funny you don’t know, but that assignment of yours was actually considered as a reference in a few workshops on Shakespeare’s work during the Shakespeare week. I read it too. You made some really good points there.” Adds Jack with an appreciative smile.  
“Right, I forgot about that.” Says Tom.  
“Wow, aren’t they supposed to let me know if they want to use my work as a reference?” I inquire, pretty sure it smells like copyright violation here.  
“They could’ve, but it’s not necessary. Your name is being listed so that people know the intellectual property belongs to you. What are you studying Riley?”  
“International relations and social studies.”  
“Have you ever considered writing?” Oh how I don’t like when people make a big deal out of something.  
“No, it’s rather a passion than something I’d like to do for living.” I suddenly turn my head and gaze at Tom, only to catch him looking at me with a smile.  
“Jack works in the industry as well. He’s a writer.” Tom informs me, clearing his throat.  
“Oh, are you a screenplay writer?”  
“For now I’ve only written a few adapted screenplays, but no original ones yet.” Says Jack, taking a sip of his whisky. I’d like something to drink too, because seems like everyone is drinking and I am not. I’m almost 20 years old after all.  
“It’s a little bit more difficult here in England to write something of your own, and then have it made into a film.” Tom points out, opening the whisky bottle with a pop and pouring some more into his glass.  
“More difficult compared to where?” I ask, chewing on a slice of cheese.  
“USA for example. I worked there for a few years, and to be honest Hollywood produced some of the best, but also some of the worst movies. There’s an excessive amount of material, not necessarily good material, and something has to be done because that is how they keep the industry going; they have hundreds of people who work there, and those people have to be paid.” Jack explains, and Tom seems to agree with him:  
“Hollywood rarely produces something worth watching. They make movies for the sake of box office indicators, not necessarily for the public to enjoy. I understand that they have to keep releasing new projects, but they could be more selective in terms of the writing and the casting.” Says Tom matter-of-factly.  
“You two are in a tough business.” I say, pointing my finger at both of them, and they start laughing. Jack excuses himself and leaves the kitchen, so there’s only Tom and I. It’s a lot more difficult for me to be just with him. When there’s somebody else, I feel more free and comfortable.  
“I’d like something to drink.” I say out of nowhere, not that I contemplated my words a lot before saying them out loud. Tom looks at me amused:  
“Of course, what would you like?”  
“Wine, please.” He opens the drawer and gets two wine glasses out.  
“Red or white?” He calls over his shoulder. He looks amazing from behind too.  
“White.”  
“I’m sorry I didn’t think to offer you something to drink as well.”  
“It’s ok.” He hands me the glass, and doesn’t take his eyes off me. Then he sits on a barstool next to me:  
“Your mother likes white wine too.” Oh why did you have to bring her up Tom? Especially now, when you’re watching me intently as if I’m the one you’re interested in. I don’t know if that’s only my imagination, but he looks at me like…his character looked at Mia Wasikowska’s character in ‘Crimson Peak’: so intense and yet impossible to read. Is he doing it unconsciously now, has that become a habit of his? Or is it an acting chop?  
I have to stop it! It can’t go on like this. I can’t blame him for acting in a certain way; he can act in any way he wants, it’s me who should stop regarding it as something else. He is with my mom, and no matter how I think he looks at me, that’s not going to change. Unless they break up.  
“White wine tastes way better, and I heard that it’s healthier.” I tell him nonchalantly, trying to stop my mind from wandering to the wrong places.  
“Riley what happened between you and your mother? It’s obvious that you two hold grudges against each other, but what for?” ‘Ask her’ is what I intend to answer in the first place. I really don’t want to discuss it with him, and it’s kind of private too. I also don’t want to give him my side of the story; if he hears it from me, I for sure am going to be pretty straight with everything I say, and that might imply throwing shade at my mom. He won’t like it. I don’t want to become their apple of discord.  
“We’re not the typical mother and daughter, are we?” I ask, trying to make a joke.  
“Certainly.” His expression remains serious, and he’s waiting for me to continue.  
“I think it’s her right to tell you this, since it mostly has to do with her past, so she is the one who should tell you.”  
“It involves your past too.” I shake my head and look down. I won’t get out of this so easily. Then I hear somebody come in.  
“There you are! Everyone is looking for you! Come, come!” My mother’s high-pitched voice fills the room, and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to hear it:  
“I’ll bring the snacks.” I say, quickly jumping from the bar stool and grabbing two plates with grapes and cheese. Before exiting the kitchen, I lock eyes with Tom for a one last time, and he looks a little dissatisfied, angry even, while I mimic an apology.  
‘I’m sorry Tom, I don’t want to implicate you in this mess, I really don’t.’  
If she wants things to last with him, she should tell him herself. I meant it when I said it – it’s her responsibility, especially because she’s the one who fucked things up.

* * *

  
Mom and dad stopped loving and respecting each other when I was around 13 years old, but unfortunately for everyone, they got divorced and broke up for good only four years later.  
When I was 17, mom and I moved to UK. We lived in Massachusetts before that, where I was also born.  
I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that she took me with her. I got along with my father way better than with her. I have no idea what lead her to that decision making – why and how did they agree on it? Why did my father let her take me? And why haven’t we spoken since? What was she thinking when she chose to not let me stay with my father, since she never really…liked me. My own past is a mystery to me, and I am sure that there’s a lot of things that had been hidden from me. It would make so much more sense if I knew everything.  
Maybe if somebody told me, I’d understand why my mother is the way she is.  
I spent my last year of high school at a private school in London, because luckily for my mom, her first husband still cared about her and their daughter, so he helped us financially. After that I got accepted into a public university, my choice justified by the fact that I wanted to spend the least of my family’s money. Soon enough I found a job, and since I still lived with my mother, I was capable to save some money, while also having my own pocket money.  
Mom, with her narcissistic and almost sociopathic nature, always liked attention. Maybe that is not always a good thing, but in her case it got her where she wanted. She made some friends in the right places (given that she was always good at getting what she wanted), that helped her find an acting job in a London theater. Yes, my mom became an actress. Due to that she always acted like a freaking diva (it’s not like she didn’t before); now she had an excuse for it.  
And it’s not like she became a celebrity in demand either, but apparently once in this craft, people from the same community will know you.  
Because of that our house became the venue of her countless parties and meetings with the fellow actors.  
I personally thought it was ridiculous that she considered it so important, she held onto it so desperately – like those parties and those people completed her and made her into the person she wanted to be.  
These free spirits, as they liked to call themselves, seemed to have escaped from a Dostoevsky’s novel; I haven’t met a single one of them, who wasn’t acting as if what they do is literally the most important and substantial thing in the world. Absorbed with themselves, completely unmoved by what is going on in the real world and always measuring dicks in their own little “society” like their life depended on it. I honestly thought things have changed since 1800’s, but apparently in spite of their work ethics and claimed professionalism, they were all just a bunch of egocentric assholes.  
I hated them and I hated that my mother’s already rotten nature – flourished when she spent almost all of her time with them.  
Tonight was no exception.

* * *

  
It was a pleasant Sunday morning, when I received an unexpected invitation.  
First there was a phone conversation:  
“Hello?”  
“Riley, this is Tom. Your mother gave me your number.”  
“Hey! Why are you calling?” He took a deep breath:  
“Diana is busy today, and I thought we could meet and spend some time together. What do you think?” I think that you’re used to getting your own way. Why would he want to spend time with me?  
“Sure. Where do you want to go?”  
“Ehehe, we could just take a walk in the park, since it’s nice outside, and then later we can go have lunch somewhere.” Due to him and mom being a couple, it wasn’t as much of a shocker to see or do something with him as it was before; well, only to some extent. But damn just spending an entire day with him was...a dream come true.  
“Sounds good. Do you want to meet in the park?”  
“No, I’ll come pick you up.” I bit my lip suppressing a smile, and my eyes roll back into my head: he’s coming to pick me up!  
“I’ll see you then.”  
“Looking forward to that.” And he hung up.  
Ok, well, I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m just spending time with my mother’s boyfriend, trying to bond with him. Yes, that’s what we’re doing - we’re bonding.  
Half an hour later, I heard a car entering the driveway, and not long after a knock on my door.  
“I’ll be out in a minute!” Oh shit! I’m not even dressed yet - I don’t know what to wear! How should I dress?  
“Take your time darling. I’ll be downstairs.” Did he just call me ‘darling’? Oh my God, I feel weak in my knees and I collapse on the bed, burying my face into a pillow.  
I eventually decide to wear a pair of skinny jeans, a white shirt and a cardigan.  
“I’m sorry it took me so long.” I say as I’m halfway going down the stairs. He stands up from the couch and walks towards me, enclosing me in a much desired and much loved hug. I hug him back.  
“It’s alright. You look good.”  
“Thank you. You do too, considering how old you are.” I say, and burst into laughter.  
“Oh, is that so?” He asks amused, playfully pulling me into him and tickling.

* * *

~~~~~~~~  
Turns out we could’ve not used the car, because we found a nice quiet place at the park’s entrance.  
“Are you cold?” He asks, when we sit on the bench facing the lake.  
“Not yet.”  
“If you are, let me know. I brought a blanket.” I peek at the basket that he’s brought along too.  
“I see you came prepared. What’s in that basket?” I say, pointing at it. Tom laughs:  
“Everything in its time.” He sits closer and wraps one arm around me. He might be a little too courteous and endearing for somebody who supposedly does whatever he does unintentionally; or is it not unintentional? He sincerely doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would bluntly make such moves without a purpose.  
Nevertheless it feels so nice being close to him.  
“Tom is this how you treat all of your female friends?” He watches me with a grim expression, and slowly tucks a strand of hair behind my ear:  
“I’m nice like that. I enjoy it.”  
“You enjoy loads of your many female friends’ company?”  
“I enjoy treating a lady well, like she deserves to be treated. Doesn’t matter who it is: my mother, my sister, your mother, or you.” As he speaks the words, he takes another strand of my hair and starts curling it around his finger.  
“I don’t understand you.”  
“What exactly you don’t understand?” He furrows his eyebrows.  
“I’m...I’m even scared to say this, because what if I just interpreted certain things wrong.”  
“Riley, just say it.”  
“What are you doing? Right now, what are we doing? This is not you spending time with your stepdaughter Tom. Your hugs, the way you look at me sometimes - it makes me uncomfortable. Are you with my mom or what?” He doesn’t say anything; he just smiles at me in that mysterious way. For God’s sake Tom, now is not the time for you to channel Loki!  
He irritates me so much right now! Maybe whatever he’s doing makes sense to him, but it doesn’t make near as much sense to me. I want to wipe that stupid smirk off of his face! I want my revenge, so I decide to fuck with him too. Why not? He thinks he’s the only one who can fuck with me? No!  
I grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him closer to me, kissing him on the lips. He momentarily pushes me away, his expression petrified, his lips pale and his eyes big (at least I got my revenge):  
“What are you doing?!”  
“Reversing roles Tom! How do you feel in my…”  
“Riley, this is not a fucking game!” Holy Mother of God, is he being serious right now?  
“You tell me this is not a game?! What the fuck is your problem?!” I stand up, screaming at him. He stands up too, looking around worried:  
“Alright, calm down. Let’s sit back down and…” I force myself aggressively out of his grip:  
“Don’t tell me to calm down. Go figure yourself out for fuck’s sake!” I can tell he is furious; what I don’t know is if he’s furious with me or with himself. Probably with me. I turn around and start walking away, when I feel him grab me by the hand:  
“Please listen to me a sit back down. This should not be left unsettled. If you leave, it will only get worse, do you understand? Let’s fix this now.”


End file.
